


Let down your hair to me

by My_kokoro



Series: Erotic Stony Tales [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Rapunzel Fusion, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, But no one loses their sight like in the original fairy tale, Fairy Tale Retellings, Hand Jobs, Injury, Insecure Tony, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Jan is a fairy, Love at First Sight, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Singing, This was supposed to be a one-shot and ended up being multi-chaptered, Why aren't there tags for Dum-E and Butterfingers, implied reference to Howl's moving Castle, implied reference to Infinity War (but no spoilers), let me know if you spot them ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_kokoro/pseuds/My_kokoro
Summary: Part 2 of the Erotic Stony Tales with Rapunzel. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it ended up so long that I had to split it up into a multichaptered fic. Blame Tony and his mind that always ends up wandering in insecurity and weird places.Feeling Steve’s fingertips brush his skin, Tony full-body shivered, and his eyes fell close. Suddenly, the air around them changed. Quiet. Hanging.“Hey,” murmured Steve, and Tony felt his fingers run up his throat and cup his jaw, thumbs tracing the edges of his beard. “Look at me, Tony.”





	1. Retired from any mortal's sight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back!  
> So for those who noticed, I originally wanted to put all my tales in one work, each tale taking one chapter. But... as I was writing Rapunzel, it just ended up being so long that I had to split it up. That's why I changed it into a series. There should be 5-6 chapters for this one (I haven't finished writing it yet).  
> This is based on the tale of Rapunzel, though I don't know why, Jan who was supposed to appear as the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella, ended up imposing herself in this tale instead (so be prepared for a pretty different version of Cinderella than usual, since Jan refused to take a part in it). Also, Tony complicated everything, so I blame the length of this story on him. You will also notice that there is a link to the song, and hope you will enjoy listening/discovering this music by Henry Purcell whose time period (17th century) is more or less how I imagine this fairy tale-world to be like.  
> Have a good read. Here is Rapunzel, stony-style!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve meet :)

  
    There were once a woman and a man who had long, in vain, wished for a child. At length it appeared that God was about to grant their desire. Those were terrible times to have a child, for illnesses had spread through the lands and reached even their isolated village. When the woman finally gave birth, the unfortunate baby was born frail and sickly. His parents were scared he would die, but the child grew up through all the epidemics, until finally the sickness had left the land.

Alas, sickness hadn’t left the child. As he grew up, he remained small and skinny, fragile and prone to illnesses. When he was but twelve years old, his lungs caught a mortal disease. His parents desperately searched for help everywhere they could: they asked the village doctor, the priest, even the good witch in the light woods. No one could save the child.

At twilight, as the father came back from the city where he had sought help and found none, he saw a small light dangling at the edge of the dark woods, seemingly beaconing him. Intrigued, the man followed the small light into the forest. The light led him deep into the forest, and suddenly the trees opened and gave way to a glade where a tall tower was standing. All around the tower was a splendid garden, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs.

It was midnight already, and the full moon bathed the glade with blue light. It made the herbs look enchanted, and the small light that had guided the man to the garden now headed back towards him and landed on his shoulder. Surprised, he saw that the small light was actually a tiny little woman. Her dress was shining of gold and coals, and she was smiling at him, her wings fluttering in her back. Her pale skin glowed.

“You’re a fairy!” exclaimed the man. “Why did you lead me here?”

“I’ve heard of the sickness that fell upon your son, dear Joseph,” answered the fairy. “Your wife and your son are the kindest souls, and they do not deserve grief nor death. In this garden are enchanted rampions. They can save your child. But make no mistake, Joseph. If the sorcerer living here catches you, he will have no mercy for you.”

Joseph looked at the garden, and saw the most fresh and green rampions he had ever seen, its leaves shimmering silver under the light of the moon.

“Thank you, little fairy,” he said. “I would do anything for my Stevie. Let it cost what it will,” and saying those words, he stepped out of the woods and crossed the glade, followed by the tiny light of the fairy.

There was not a soul out there in the garden. Joseph stepped carefully around a row of lettuces, ignored the grimacing face of a scarecrow, and reached the patch of rampions. He hastily clutched a handful of one, and promptly fled the garden. The fairy helped him find his way back to the road, and then bid him her best wishes. Thanking her from the bottom of his heart, Joseph returned home.

His wife Sarah at once made a salad with the rampion, and fed it to their child, who ate it greedily. The poor child instantly recovered, his livid face warming up with a healthy blush, and for the first time in many, many days, he slept without a worry, breathing easily and well.

For a few days, the child seemed to get better. But one salad hadn’t been enough, and his recovery soon slowed down and eventually stopped, and little by little the illness fought its way back. Thus Joseph knew he had to return once more to the garden. Therefore, in the evening gloom, he went to the forest and called for the fairy, who again led him to the glade. The moon was half-hidden behind swollen clouds, and the fairy was too scared to leave the edge of the woods.

“Joseph, Joseph, don’t go!” she said. “There’s light in the tower. It’s too dangerous! We’ll come back tomorrow.”

But Joseph was too afraid his child wouldn’t live through another day, and so he went in the garden anyway. Sure, the only window, high at the top of the tower, was indeed lightened up. But he could see no stairs, nor door, so he doubted anyone really lived there.

How wrong was he! No sooner had he rooted out another rampion, that a shadow fell on him like Death itself, and he went pale with fear as the tall figure hovered menacingly over him with its cape rippling in the windless air. Then the creature pulled back its hood, revealing a bald, nose-less and ears-less human head glowering with red skin. The sorcerer, for it was him, seized Joseph’s arm, and snarled;

“How dare you come into my garden and steal my precious rampion like a thief? You shall suffer for it!”

“Ah, mercy!” cried out Joseph, falling to his knees. “I only did it out of necessity. My only child is dying of sickness, and he was almost healed by your rampion. I thought giving him more would save him.”

The sorcerer looked at the rampion in his hand and then back at Joseph, looking surprised for a second, and then his surprise was replaced by a pleased, calculating glare. He said;

“If the case be as you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion as you will, only I make one condition. You must give me the child as soon as he recovers. He shall be well treated, and I will care for him.”

Joseph in the desperation of saving his child consented to everything, and every night he came by the garden to fetch fresh rampion for his child. No matter how hard he tried to remember the path leading to the tower, he never could; it was as if the trees in the woods traitorously walked away and chose different places to root, making it impossible to find the sorcerer’s garden without the help of the fairy.

After a week of being fed the magical rampions, the child finally overcame his illness. Sarah and Joseph barely had the time to celebrate, that the sorcerer appeared at their doorstep, and took away their child with him.

Sarah could never heal from the grief of losing her only child, and every day for many years Joseph would return to the forest calling for the fairy. But the fairy never came, and he had to renounce to see his child ever again.

After a few years, it came to pass that the fairy appeared again, though she did not appear to Joseph, but to a young man who was traveling from village to village. He was, as it were, lost in the dark woods. He had been warned that the dark woods weren’t the same as the light woods, that in one dwelt an evil sorcerer while the other was the home of the good witch, but Tony, as he was called, had always been a little pig-headed, and for all that his mind was brilliant, he was also a bit of a scatterbrain.

So he had ventured in the wrong woods, thinking of finding the good witch, only to get lost in the dark woods, and was now copiously insulting his mount.

“You’re such an idiot, Dummy! I swear, this is all your fault!”

The mule shook his head and stubbornly turned right when Tony tried to make him go left. Tony rolled his eyes. Actually, he was getting a little worried, for he had spent the morning wandering in the woods instead of seeing the good witch and putting up at the small village’s inn, and at that rate, they’d spend the evening as well. He did not fancy spending the night in the forest.

Not to mention that they were making quite a lot of noise, what with his working gear and scraps his second mule was carrying. Tony annoyingly looked over his shoulder when he felt her pull on her bridle, and groaned when he saw that she had slipped again.

“For Heaven’s sake, Butterhooves, be careful! You’re going to hurt yourself one day! Don’t you know what happens when a horse breaks a leg?”

Butterhooves snorted at him, and since Tony wasn’t paying attention to his mount anymore, Dummy promptly started munching on a patch of clovers. Tony was about to yell at him, for he had told him many times that clover wasn’t good for his belly, when he froze. Since Butterhooves had stopped moving, she wasn’t making all that noise anymore, and so Tony could hear a faint sound coming from deep into the forest.

_[Retired from any mortal’s sight…](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6ZiR2lWO9A) _

It was a song, and though it was melancholic and lamenting, the voice of the singer was so charming, that Tony stood still and listened.

 _Why, mighty powers, ah why_  
_Am I too much distressed to live,_  
_And yet forbid to die?_

 _Such accents from the shepherd flew,_  
_Whilst on the ground he lay;_  
_At last so deep a Sigh he drew,_  
_As bore his Life away._

The song eventually stopped, and Tony found himself yearning ardently for the one who had been singing. No sooner had this desire taken root in his heart, that a tiny little woman, wearing a dress of gold and coals, landed on Dummy’s withers, her wasp-like wings fluttering.

“Hi!” she said glowingly.

“Who the Hell are you?” frowned Tony, for he had a strong dislike of all that was magical (yes, he had wanted to visit the good witch just to prove that she was a quack).

“I’m Jan. I’m the fairy who grants one wish, and only one,” she answered, grinning.

“No way. I’m a man of science,” retorted Tony, and started swatting at her. “Get off my Dummy, he hates wasps and all things that sting.”

Jan evaded his hand and flew away, this time landing on Butterhooves’ head, right between her long, plushy, twitchy ears. Butterhooves blinked, and looked at Tony with her doe eyes. Tony knew that look very well.

“No. I don’t need help from something that doesn’t exist. We’re not lost, Butterhooves. C’mon, Dummy, let’s go!” snapped Tony, spurring his mount with his heels, but Dummy ignored him and kept munching more cloves.

“I’m real!” protested indignantly Jan. “And I can lead you to the person who was singing.”

“I could care less about that,” lied Tony, whose heart was traitorously beating faster, “I need to get back on track and find the village before the night, or I’ll end up eaten by a three-headed bear or something.”

But then the singing started again, and Jan and Butterhooves stared at him from under their long eyelashes, and that was that. Now Jan was leading joyfully, zigzagging along the scary tortuous trees, and Dummy and Butterhooves were trotting happily behind her, while Tony was reciting alchemical formulas to keep himself calm.

As they reached a glade, Jan and the mules stopped.

“Shh,” said Jan, and she pointed at the glade.

A tall tower was standing in the middle of the glade, its slate roof shining under the midday sun. The tower had neither stairs nor door, but near the top was a little window. The singing that so deeply touched Tony’s heart came from that window. He dismounted Dummy and let his mules graze in the bushes, while he sat on a rock, examining the tower and trying to spot an entrance.

“There’s got to be a door somewhere,” he said, and was ready to approach it to check on the other side when the fairy stopped him.

“There isn’t, not even on the other side. Don’t move, Tony! Here comes the sorcerer!”

And Tony, who was about to ask her how she knew his name, fell silent as he observed a menacing figure entering the glade. It was a man, dressed in a black hooded cape, and whose head was bright red.

“He looks like a living red skull,” said Tony with disgust, and Jan smothered a giggle in her hands.

The Red Skull placed himself beneath the tower and bellowed;

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me!”

To Tony’s astonishment, an incredibly long golden rope hanged out from the window and started uncoiling down until it reached the ground, and the Red Skull climbed up by it all the way up to the window.

“What the flying Hell,” said Tony. “This is highly unpractical, why would someone climb such a height and risk a deadly fall?”

“That is so they can keep prisoner the one inside,” said Jan, and she sounded sad.

Tony waited for the Red Skull to climb down and leave, and when the sorcerer finally did and left the glade, disappearing into the dark forest, Tony went to the tower and called out, imitating the Red Skull’s voice and silly accent, and all the while feeling utterly stupid from doing so;

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me!”

Immediately the golden rope fell down and Tony noted, a bit weirded out, that it was indeed made of blond hair. He started to climb up. To be honest, he almost gave up after the few first feet, for the climb was long and exhausting, but Jan kept needling him and making jabs at his pride, so in the end Tony climbed it all and finally reached the window, panting like a dying ox. A pair of strong, bony hands took hold of his, and he was pulled up into the tower.

“Hum, hi,” said Tony, still breathless, and the woman facing him stared at him, frowning.

“You’re not Schmidt,” she said, and her voice was deep, deeper than Tony’s. Her frail neck had a very visible Adam’s apple.

“You’re not a girl,” gasped Tony, and the young man facing him frowned even more, gesturing at his clothes.

“How do these look like a dress to you?! Of course I’m not a girl!”

“Sorry, sorry!” said Tony, holding his hands up. “I heard you sing, earlier, and you had the voice of a woman. It was beautiful, really!”

“I’m a _haute-contre_ ,” explained the blonde.

“What’s that?”

“A man who sings very high,” he snapped.

“You mean, you’re one of those guys who have their balls removed?” gasped Tony, gaping at him.

“What?! _No!_ I’m not a _castrato_! My private parts are perfectly fine! Can’t you hear I have a deep voice when I speak?”

“But that’s weird. I mean, your singing is beautiful, but how do you do that?”

“I sing with my mind, not my body.”

“That’s scientifically impossible,” said Tony, and the blond young man glared at him. “Okay, okay, forget it. I’m Tony.”

“Steve.”

“The Red Skull called you Rapunzel,” noted Tony.

Steve stared at him, again. He was standing proudly, hands on his hips, his braid still tied to the hook by the window, while Tony was sprawled on the floor, all sweaty and his throat parched. It may have been because Tony was totally dying from that inhumane climb, but black spots were dancing before his eyes, and the floor felt unstable under his bottom, his whole body burning up as if on fire, and Steve himself was getting pretty blurred.

Tony blinked heavily, and next thing he knew, he was lying on a bed, his shirt opened, shoes off, and Steve was sitting on his bedside, running a cool wet cloth on his forehead and chest. Steve looked concerned, but quickly hid it behind a stern, frowning face.

“You’ feeling better?” he asked as Tony slowly came back to his senses.

“Thank you,” Tony murmured, his voice rough.

Steve left the cool wet cloth on his chest and reached for the night table, taking a cup of water that was sitting there ready, and leaning in to help Tony get into a half-sitting posture. After drinking a few cups of water, Tony felt better. Embarrassed by his fainting, he thanked profusely Steve, who just gave him a small, almost shy smile.

As Tony buttoned back his shirt, Steve asked;

“So Tony… who are you and why would you come here? Don’t you know Schmidt is dangerous?”

Tony huffed;

“Why, I’m a prince of course, so I couldn’t help myself when hearing such a beautiful voice. I thought you had to be some pretty princess in distress.”

Steve stared at him, and his voice was doubtful.

“You’re… a _prince_ ,” he said, looking pointedly at Tony’s cheap clothes.

Tony waved it all away.

“Why are you here anyway? You seem to be a prisoner?”

And so Steve told him about his illness as a child, and how the sorcerer Schmidt -the Red Skull- had taken him as replacement for the rampions his father, Joseph Rogers, had stolen to him. Ever since, the Red Skull named Steve ‘Rapunzel’, after the rampions that had saved his life -or maybe, thought Tony, to spite Steve and never let him forget the reason why he was imprisoned here-.

“But why don’t you… I dunno, you could cut off your hair, tie it up here and use it as a rope to get down the tower… and flee. Why do you stay here?” asked Tony.

True, Steve was thin, almost sickly so, but he looked strong enough to be able to get down the tower. Steve shook his head, a somber look on his pale face. He was in dire need of real sun and fresh air, thought Tony.

“I can’t. If I flee, Schmidt will go to my village and hurt the people. My parents. My friends. Everyone. No one deserves to suffer in his hands because of me. He’s a cruel and dangerous sorcerer. Which, again, makes me question why you’re here. Do you have a death wish?”

“Oh no, but it would’ve been a shame to have missed out on you,” smiled Tony.

He meant it. Steve was frail, but he radiated some incredible inner strength, and Tony found himself fascinated by him. Steve blushed at this, as if he didn’t really think he was of much worth, and asked him if he wanted something to drink. They ended up sharing herbal tea, cake, and stories. The Red Skull never spent the day at the tower, only coming back at midday for lunch and sometimes late at night to sleep, so they had some free time. Eventually the evening came to an end, and Steve regretfully told Tony he should leave in case the sorcerer came back for the night.

As Tony were to head for the village, he asked Steve if he wanted to send a message to his parents and friends. But Steve shook his head, a sad twist to his lips, and asked that he wouldn’t tell them about him at all. Tony didn’t insist, and prepared to leave, watching as Steve hooked his braid to the hook by the window.

“I’ll come back,” said Tony, and felt his heart constrict when he saw the small, disbelieving smile Steve gave him as an answer.

“Good bye, Tony,” said Steve, watching him as Tony let himself slide down the braid.

No sooner had he set foot on the ground that the little fairy jumped him.

“What took you so long?” she said, playfully stomping his nose with her tiny feet.

Yelping in surprise, Tony swatted at her, but she avoided him as easily as the first time.

“What about you? _Where_ were you?” he retorted.

“I can’t enter the tower,” explained Jan with a pout, flying around his ears while he strode towards the edge of the woods. “Because of the sorcerer’s magic.”

Butterhooves and Dummy snorted at him, both completely indifferent about having been abandoned for hours, and Tony swiftly untied their bridles and jumped on Dummy’s back.

“Can you guide me to the village?” he asked Jan.

“Of course! Follow me!”

“Jan, you said you granted one wish. So why don’t you help that poor guy in the tower?” said Tony after a while of them walking through the dark forest in silence.

“I can’t,” said Jan, her voice sad. “I’ve already helped his father. I can’t grant more than one wish to the same blood. Most people in this village had that one wish granted already to their ancestors. Joseph was one of the lasts I could appear to. Now, you, as a stranger, I can help.”

“You mean that when my wish is granted, I won’t see you anymore?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds lonely,” murmured Tony.

The trees gave out to the road and wide fields. In the horizon already darkened by the descending sun, lights from the village shimmered.

“I’m not alone,” said Jan, though her smile was brittle. “I have friends among the fairies.”

She stopped, and waved him good-bye.

“Good night, Tony! If you need to get to the tower again, just call for me. I’ll be there.”

Tony waved back at her and headed to the village. He had to stop by the entrance and wait for a herd of pigs to be brought in. The swineherd was a youngster dressed like some sort of Robin Hood, his hair dark brown and disheveled, face impish and still baby-like. He looked like the type of teen that would stalk their heroes everywhere like some kind of sidekick. He sneered at Tony;

“Huh… you’re the tinkerer, aren’t ya, mister? Doc told us he saw you in the city… but he said you left before him, how did you manage to arrive so long after him?”

And then the mocking smile on his face extended, and he laughed: “Did you get _lost?_ On a _straight road?_ Ha ha ha!”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Ha, _ha_. Yeah, I’m the tinkerer. Tony. Nice to meet you.”

“Bucky. You’ looking for the inn? It’s next to the pig pen, you can follow me there.”

Tony thanked him, and followed as Bucky nudged his pigs. They passed through the village; it was so late that people were already cooped up in their home. Bucky whistled happily as they crossed the empty square. The little church standing by was the cutest Tony had ever seen, and its bell slowly rang, the sound loud and resounding. The pigs didn’t mind one bit, but Dummy shook his long ears in discontent and Tony felt another pull from Butterhooves’ bridle as she slipped again. The poor dears deserved their rest, thought Tony fondly.

They finally reached the other edge of the village, and Tony could see the inn, sitting there like a big fat pudding cake. Its sign was swinging in the small breeze, the hinges grating horribly. As Bucky herded his pigs into the pen, Tony stabled his mules, then climbed on a barrel so as to reach the sign and oil its hinges. Satisfied, he jumped down, waved at Bucky who was watching him from the pen with an amused look on his face, and sauntered into the inn.

“Good evening!” called Tony as he entered.

A young man about his age was cleaning the tables, and a woman, her hair graying and her face all smiles, was putting away the beer mugs. The guy stared at Tony, while the woman greeted;

“Good evening, son,” she said.

“You’re the tinkerer? We’ve been waiting for you all day,” said the guy.

“Yes, I’m the tinkerer. Tony. Nice to meet you. I’m looking for a place to stay, obviously.”

“I’m Bambi Arbogast,” said the woman. “Come here, son, let’s have you sign the register.”

Tony joined her to the counter as she pulled out a heavy book, opening it and searching for a pot of ink and a quill.

“Full name?”

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

She wrote it down and gave him the book to sign. It was always a bit of a test for Tony, since he would always, pointedly, sign with his left hand. It was a testimony to how bigoted the village could be. Granted, that could turn out dangerous -he’d once had to flee in the middle of the night because the whole place had wanted to burn him-. However, Mrs Arbogast didn’t react at all, and merely smiled at him before beckoning the young man behind them;

“Arnie, show Mr Stark to his room, will you?”

“Yes Ma’am!” said Arnie, hastily making his way to them.

Tony followed him upstairs, and Arnie led him to the room at the end of the hallway. Tony thanked him and entered. The shutters were already closed, so it was even darker than outside, but Tony didn’t have the energy to lit up a candle. He let go of his bag, took off his boots, haggardly flinging them on the floor, and finally threw himself on the bed. Despite the grunts he could hear through the wall (he guessed the pig pen was right under his window), he was asleep in the blink of an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, no sexy times in the first chapter! But I can promise you that there will be some in all the following chapters. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless this introduction to the story and characters. I chose "young side-kick Robin-looking" Bucky instead of the usual "Steve's childhood friend and Winter Soldier" Bucky, and put in Arnie, who is in the comics, indeed gay and the one who protected Steve in his childhood. I haven't quite decided who the Good Witch is supposed to be yet (I originally wanted her to be Wanda, but decided against it), so let me know if you have some ideas. Who would you like to see as the Good Witch? 
> 
> Please don't hesitate to drop a comment, it really helps me. I love writing, but my health makes it very hard for me, so your encouragements mean a lot to me. Constructive criticism is welcome too, but not the flames. If I have missed a tag or misrated this work, please tell. See you next time!


	2. I attempt from Love's sickness to fly in vain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times occur ;)

The pigs were much louder in the morning, and Tony woke up with his ears full of joyful and shrill ‘groiiiiink!’. Groaning, Tony buried his face in his pillow, trying to drown out the noise. It was all in vain, for as soon as the pigs were gone, the church bell started to loudly strike six.

Thus Tony started his day, getting downstairs for breakfast -dear God, Mrs Arbogast’s grilled bread, butter and jam were delicious-, then putting up his stuff next to the stables, where Mrs Arbogast had told him he wouldn’t be a bother. Villagers started coming by, bringing him all kind of utensils to fix, and Tony set up for work.

He worked all day, and the day after. On the third day of his stay, he still hadn’t stopped thinking about Steve -especially since Steve’s mother, Mrs Rogers, had come by to bring him a caved-in cooking-pot. Tony was but a mere tinkerer -he was essential for the villagers, but it didn’t mean he was payed that much-. It meant that he couldn’t afford long breaks, especially since he was paying for a room and meals at the inn, as well as the stables and the food for his mules. However his desire to see Steve again was too strong, so he closed shop on midday, took Dummy out of the stables, and headed for the dark woods.

“Jan! Jan!” he called as he entered the forest.

Jan popped out of nowhere and happily greeted him, and the both of them, chatting, headed for the tower. Jan assured him that the sorcerer had already left, and so Tony tied Dummy to a tree and went to the tower, calling out;

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me!”

The heavy golden braid uncoiled from the windows down to the ground, and he climbed up. Steve was waiting for him at the window sill, eyes lit up and piercing blue, and he helped Tony in. Tony had barely set foot inside that Steve was already wrinkling his nose.

“Uh… you’re staying at Bambi’s inn, aren’t you?” he said, covering his nose with his sleeve.

Tony froze, then started frantically sniffing his clothes.

“What? What is it? Do I smell?”

“Yeah, you do. You already smelled of horse the over day, but now you smell of pig. No offense,” said Steve, his voice muffled by the sleeve. “I never got why Bambi had her inn so close to the pig pen.”

“Bambi? Ah, yes, the innkeeper, Mrs Arbogast! You’re right about the pig pen… do… do you want me to leave?”

“No!” yelped Steve, so loudly and sudden that Tony startled, surprised by this passionate answer. “It’s just… I wouldn’t want Schmidt to realize someone’s visiting me, so… if you don’t mind, you could wash up?”

And saying this, Steve took Tony by his wrist and leaded him to the other side of the room. There behind curtains, were a bed (the one Steve had put him on when Tony had fainted), a heavy chest, and a bathtub with overhanging pipes. To Tony’s amazement, the tap could produce warm water. Steve explained it was because of a spell, but Tony’s mind was reeling, imagining how he could reproduce the result of that spell with simple science. Steve pointed at a big basket coiled between the chest and the bathtub.

“Put your clothes in the basket, and they’ll be cleaned up.”

“The basket is enchanted too?” frowned Tony.

“Yes,” smiled Steve, and he headed out of the small place, his hand on the curtain, ready to shut it close. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need me.”

Then he stepped back and closed the curtain, giving Tony privacy. Tony undressed, stuffed his clothes in the basket, and then carefully stepped into the bathtub. He was used to wash himself with cold water -in streams and wash houses, or else by the well or the faucet-, for hot baths were a luxury very few people could afford. Having a hot bath meant you would have a servant preparing the bathtub for you by warming up lots of water, and that wasn’t an easy feat. No common people would do so. Magic, as much as Tony hated it, really seemed pretty convenient and allowed someone as poor as Steve to enjoy this luxury by himself. There had to be a way to do the same with science, thought Tony as he relaxed into the hot water.

He closed his eyes and savored the moment. The warm water felt amazing, and helped relax his aching muscles from days of work (and of climbing up the tower). He must have dozed off at some point, because he startled awake to Steve’s voice from behind the curtain.

“Tony? I’m preparing some herbal tea if you’d like.”

“In a minute!” replied Tony, and he hastily washed himself with the soap. The soap gave out a fresh, non-floral scent, that reminded him of Steve. Strangely enough, the idea of smelling like Steve made something warm unfurl in his chest, and Tony pushed that disturbing thought away from his mind -it didn’t stop the warmth from spreading through his chest, especially when, opening the basket, he found inside his perfectly folded clothes smelling the same fresh scent than Steve’s. He quickly dried himself with the towel which had been hanging next to the bathtub, and then he slipped into his clean clothes, admiring how neat they looked.

The scent of thyme and chamomile had filled the room, coming from the two opened jars Steve had put on the table alongside the mugs. Steve himself was humming quietly when Tony joined him near the hearth. The smile he gave Tony was strangely shy, and his eyes took him in as if he was liking what he was seeing, his glance lingering on Tony’s moist and curled hair. Steve’s cheeks reddened endearingly as he seemed to realize Tony had caught him staring, and he went back to poking the fire.

“Come on, Toro, wake up,” cajoled Steve, staring at the glowing embers.

“You talk to the fire,” deadpanned Tony.

Steve smiled wider.

“He’s a little shy. Toro? Come on, I need to boil water.”

Tony produced a piece of tinder and handed it to him.

“Now you’re spoiling him,” laughed Steve, but he accepted the tinder and pushed it into the embers. Immediately, flames rose, licking avidly the treat, devouring it in seconds.

Then the fire took over the new log Steve had put over the embers, and, to Tony’s amazement, the flames took the shape of a small face, with a wide smirk and two mischievous eyes.

“Tony, meet Toro,” said Steve, grinning. “Toro, thanks for waking up. You already saw Tony the other day, I noticed you spying on us.”

Tony got closer to the hearth, excited. Since he used to work in a forge, he loved fire.

“Hi,” he said to the little figure.

The tiny fire face stuck out its tongue to him, and went hiding behind the log. 

“He’ll come along,” chuckled Steve, putting the pot on the hearth. 

While the water warmed and Steve was putting mugs on the table, Tony observed the fire a little while longer, but the little figure didn’t reappear.

“What is he? Another of the Red Skull’s spells?”

“Not really,” said Steve from somewhere above him. Tony turned over and watched him, as Steve, standing precariously on a stool, rummaged in the buffet. He finally took out a tin box and jumped down his stool. “He’s a fire elemental, and Schmidt forcefully bid him to the hearth. Toro’s a prisoner, just like me.” 

He put the box on the table and opened it, revealing mouth-watering cookies inside. The pot was now steaming with  steam, so Tony took it out from the hearth and put it down on the table, and they sat down together.

They drank herbal tea and ate the cookies, chatting as they had last time. Tony asked him about the drawings in coal on the walls, and Steve admitted he had done them. He didn’t have much paper to draw on, so he would draw on the walls and later wash them. He would also draw on every inch of paper he had, mostly on the back of the music scores the sorcerer sometimes brought him back from the city (to keep Steve’s mind from turning crazy with boredom, guessed Tony. The Red Skull also gave his prisoner a few books, some novels of chivalry and some cooking recipes). Steve had learned to read at his church, both the roman letters and the music notes, for as a child he had been so frail and so often sick that he hadn’t been much of use to his parents, and so the priest had given him purpose by letting him help out a little in the church.

Time passed by so fast that Tony could barely believe it when the sky had turned all kinds of fiery colors, the sun setting behind the tree tops.

“You should go,” sighed Steve, looking bleak himself. 

“I… I’m not going to stay forever at your village,” said Tony, suddenly, his throat closing up in unexpected sadness. “My work there will probably end in a couple of days.”

“Oh,” breathed Steve, halting his movement. He was about to hook his braid to the window. His thin, much too thin body seemed to tense, and then he swiftly hooked his braid, the gesture sudden, almost as if in anger. “Will you not visit anymore?”

“I… maybe once or twice,” said Tony. “I promise.”

Steve smiled and thanked him, and Tony left.

True to his word, Tony came back two days later. By then, he was nearly done with his tinkering, and had only a day left of work. He was planning to visit Steve one last time after his departure from the village. As he followed Jan through the woods, chatting happily with her, Dummy shook his long ears and straightened them, listening intently in front of him, and Tony and Jan fell silent as their ears picked on, too, the charming notes of Steve’s singing. 

_[I attempt from Love's sickness to fly in vain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nC8woUfr50Q),_   
_Since I am myself my own fever and pain._   
_No more now, fond heart, with pride no more swell,_   
_Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel._

It was a joy to hear a happy song rather than the sad, mournful one Tony had heard on the day of his arrival. Jan added, snickering, that it was a love song, but he ignored her.

_For Love has more power and less mercy than fate,_   
_To make us seek ruin and love those that hate._   
_I attempt from Love's sickness to fly in vain,_   
_Since I am myself my own fever and pain._

The entered the glade as Steve ended his singing. Steve was overjoyed to see him, his grin visible even from down there on the ground. When Tony finally joined him upstairs and told him he would come back again one more time after this visit, Steve cheered enthusiastically.

“You know,” said Tony after he had cleaned up and was sitting with Steve drinking herbal tea, “We should think of a plan to get you out of here.”

Steve shook his head, his lips forming the now familiar pout that always left Tony with a strange, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“You know I can’t,” he said.

“But since he’s an evil sorcerer, he’s got to do evil stuff elsewhere,” pointed out Tony, distracting himself from the vision of Steve’s appealing lips by waving at Toro. The little fire elemental once again stuck out its tongue to him and went back to hide behind  the pile of embers. “We should also find a way to stop him.”

“He’s very powerful, Tony,” said Steve patiently, as if talking to a child, which made Tony want to swat at him, “He’s even got hired men back in the city. He’s got money, too.”

“He’s got hired men in the city? Wait… you said his name is Schmidt, didn’t you? What’s his first name?”

“I don’t know. Back in my village, no one even knew his last name. I’m the only one who knows, because he told me.”

“I know a powerful Schmidt in the city, who’s got his own militia and stuff. But he doesn’t look like the Red Skull at all, he’s perfectly human-looking. He’s black-haired with dark cruel eyes and a very serious face.”

“Schmidt is a sorcerer, Tony. He comes here to replenish his magic, but most of the time he’s at the city and he can be away and travel for weeks. Of course he’s gonna disguise himself. His magic makes it easy to do so, to put on the illusion of a human face.”

Tony shivered.

“That’s scary. The Schmidt from my city is a dangerous guy, lots of people are afraid of him and of what he could do if he ever succeeded in taking over the city. I know some awful people who benefited from him, too.”

Steve put a hand on his arm, squeezing him gently, sending him a concerned look. Tony swallowed his anguish down. He didn’t want to burden Steve with his own sad life. Steve didn’t need to know of the tale of how the most powerful and rich family of smiths, the Starks, had fallen to betrayal and treachery.

“I was thinking,” said carefully Steve, “That I’d like to keep a souvenir of you.”

Tony blinked, ripping his eyes from the heart-warming view of Steve’s long and delicate fingers wrapped around his arm.

“A souvenir? What do you mean?”

“I’d like to draw you,” smiled, shyly, Steve. “Unless you mind, of course. I don’t have many occasions of studying  human anatomy, so you’d really be a big help. And, this way, I’d keep a souvenir of you.”

“Oh, sure! I don’t mind!”

Beaming, Steve pulled him by his arm, out of his chair, and led him to the bed. He was standing very close to Tony, tilting his head up to look at him from under his lashes, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from taking in his face, the finesse of his traits, the small dimples and freckles peppering his white skin, the golden hair swept aside his forehead, gathered in the thick braid that coiled on the floor behind them. Steve’s eyebrows were darker than his hair, almost black, and Tony had to push away from his mind his improper curiosity -Steve standing here so close to him, looking up at him with fiery eyes, his hands skittering down Tony’s sides and landing on his hips, did not make it okay to think that Steve was trying to seduce him like the many women Tony had laid with. It did not make it okay for Tony to long for the taste of his pouty lips, nor to wonder if the curls hidden down his clothes were as dark as his eyebrows or as golden as his hair. It did not… wait, actually, why were Steve’s hands holding on his hips?

“Tony,” said Steve in a half-whisper, his eyes still smoldering under heavy lashes, “You wouldn’t mind getting bare-chested, right? It’s best to draw nudes when working on human anatomy, but I wouldn’t ask you to fully undress.”

“S-sure,” stuttered Tony.

Why was he feeling so breathless? He had worked bare-chested plenty of times before, and furthermore he had never minded getting naked in front of other people, so why was it so embarrassing when it was Steve?

Steve’s nibble fingers were now untying his shirt and opening it, and Steve splayed a hand on Tony’s stomach, pushing him toward the bed. Tony sat, his back against the wall behind him, his heart hammering in his chest. Steve’s ears were reddening, a blush dusting his bony cheeks, and he put his hand on Tony’s stomach, again, mapping the muscles there with a feathered touch that lit sparks in Tony’s guts.

“You’re so strong,” Steve said, admiringly. “I wish I looked like you. I’ve never been able to put on much muscle.”

Mute, Tony watched him step back, feeling strangely abandoned as the exploring fingers left him. Steve brought a chair and sit facing Tony, a blank sheet of paper pinned to the kitchen chopping board in one hand, and a sharpened piece of coal in the other. He smiled to Tony, asked him not to move, and started drawing. 

Tony remained frozen in place for a long time, and his breathing never managed to go back to normal. His whole body was on fire, he kept swallowing and working his throat, trying to smother the blaze and find something to say, but it was a lost cause. Steve didn’t seem to mind the silence, nor did he seem to notice how nervous Tony was, and Tony watched as more and more coal darkened the paper, forming an amazingly detailed figure. The look on Steve’s face as he concentrated on his drawing was entrancing, and Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off him. 

Steve bit his lower lip, frowning, and then he looked up. Lightning coursed through Tony’s spine and his breath stopped altogether. He felt pinned under Steve’s stare.

“Could you maybe…” started Steve, and then he stood up, putting aside the drawing and his coals. He hovered over Tony, his hands reaching for his opened shirt and sliding the clothing down Tony’s shoulders. “You don’t need to take it off,” he said, flushing, “But it’d be nice if I could see your musculature a bit better.”

Feeling Steve’s fingertips brush his skin, Tony full-body shivered, and his eyes fell close. Suddenly, the air around them changed. Quiet. Hanging. 

“Hey,” murmured Steve, and Tony felt his fingers run up his throat and cup his jaw, thumbs tracing the edges of his beard. “Look at me, Tony.”

Tony forced himself to open his eyes, though his head was swimming, his whole body feeling much too hot, his blood singing and boiling in his veins and battering around his eardrums, the beat of his heart much too quick, fluttering like a scared rabbit. Since he was sitting and Steve standing, he had to tilt his chin up so as to look at him, and Steve was bowed towards him. Their eyes locked, and a whimper escaped his throat. Steve’s eyes were of a blinding blue such as Tony had never seen, a pure shade of azure, the kindness and stubbornness that usually swam there drowned out by passion and fierceness.

Steve’s left thumb traced his mustache down to the corner of his mouth, and then caressed his lips, and Tony shivered again, eyes still boring into Steve’s. He felt Steve’s other hand on his jaw sliding back down his throat and torso, nails softly threading through his chest hair, and then gentle fingertips pressing on his raised nipple, trying maybe to soothe it down. 

“Oh, Steve,” sighed Tony, the tension in his body too much, the fire in his guts swallowing his mind, severe arousal having hardened his nipples and his sex.  

Steve’s fingers teased his nipple again, and lightening ran through Tony’s spine once more, causing a moan to rush out of his mouth. The thumb on his lips slipped between his parted lips, and Tony’s tongue immediately wrapped around the digit. 

“Look at me,” said Steve, again, his voice rough and deeper.

Tony blinked and obeyed. He had been about to close his eyes again. Steve’s thumb retreated from his mouth and Tony’s tongue followed it out. Steve bent forward, and pressed his forehead against his, blue eyes still watching him intensely, holding Tony’s face with one hand.

Fingers twirled Tony’s nipple one last time, making him gasp. Steve’s thumb slipped back into his mouth, sliding on his tongue, and Tony sucked it gently. Other fingers trailed down his stomach and he heard his belt unbuckling, felt his now uncomfortably tight pants finally open and free his erection, cold air hitting in for a second before light fingertips landed on his sensitive skin and trailed up his length, fingers slicking themselves on the tip with the first beads of his seed before wrapping firmly around his sex.  
Tony’s hips bucked up. He moaned deeply, pushing into the slick, warm embrace of Steve’s hand. Steve moved to bestride him, his knees pressing against Tony’s hips. He freed his thumb from Tony’s mouth and embraced him, his arm wrapping securely around him, his hand splayed on the small of his back. Still gazing into Tony’s eyes, forehead against his, Steve smiled, gently and adoringly, whispering;

“I’ve got you. Let go, Tony.” 

Tony moaned, both from the words and from Steve’s hand caressing his sex. His own hands were clinging tightly to the bed sheet. He wouldn’t dare touch Steve. He could only think of doing exactly what Steve had asked him. Letting go. Losing himself in the pleasure. Surging up into Steve’s hand and trembling with the pleasure of those agile fingers tightening around the head of his penis, the thumb gathering more of Tony’s slick and spreading it around, the caress of this hand sliding down to the root, then up again to the tip, staying there a little while, just long enough for Tony to try chasing after it by tilting his hips up.

Pleas and incoherent words mixed with moans. He might have asked for more. Steve’s other hand trailed down his spine, into the crease of his rear, and then a fingertip pressed there, on Tony’s sensitive and fluttering skin -not breaching in, but there, just enough pressure to make Tony reel with want, the pleasure spiking insanely-. Tony keened and threw his head back, eyes closing, whole body shuddering as he came, thrusting erratically into Steve’s hand, soaking it with white, viscous semen. And while he was shaking all over and crying out Steve’s name, the hand on his rear shot up to get hold of his chin, Steve asking him urgently, his other hand tightening on his weeping penis.  

“Look at me, Tony.”

Tony opened his eyes. Steve was watching him ardently, and Tony rode the last of his pleasure slowly, hips undulating lazily, hands letting go of the crumpled sheets so as to wrap around Steve’s neck, mouth at long last seeking the pouty lips and devouring them in a deep kiss, tongue licking into Steve’s mouth.

By the time Steve’s hand had let go of Tony’s softening sex, and by the time they had broken the kiss, they were both panting harshly, breathless. Steve’s fervent eyes were glazed over with arousal, and he smiled brightly to Tony;

“God, Tony, you came so hard, you were gorgeous,” he rasped, looking very proud of himself, and surging forward to kiss Tony lightly on the lips.

It was that word, ‘ _God_ ’, that made the haze dissipate, and the nice boneless feeling left suddenly, replaced by shards of ice splintering through his bones as Tony remembered exactly _what_ he had craved when he had climaxed.

He had wanted Steve inside of him. He had wanted Steve’s sex up his arse, stretching him, sliding in and out. He had wanted Steve to moan with him, to thrust into him, to find his own pleasure inside of Tony, to fill him to the brim with his semen so Tony would feel it coat his insides, spill out, and slide down his skin. 

It wasn’t the first time Tony had gotten off to a man’s hand. In his younger days, his puberty-blooming friends and he would sometimes experiment together, before Tony got so good at hooking up with girls. They’d trade hand jobs, and not look twice at what that was - a trade of sexual acts for their own selfish pleasure, nothing more-. Who the hand belonged to did not haunt their minds, nor did it make them crave for kisses and penetration.

This, what Tony and Steve had just done… This was vastly different. 

This was Steve looking at him with desire, this was Tony surrendering his pleasure to him. This wasn’t a barter of sexual favors, it was the joining of their wants. It was Steve holding him through his fall from the edge, it was Steve valuing Tony’s pleasure over his own, it was Tony being entranced not by the hand, but by the person who the hand belonged to. 

It was Steve looking at Tony each day more and more adoringly. It was Tony longing for him ever since his singing pierced through his heart on that very first day in the dark woods. It was them engaging in fornication in a heartbeat, without  having to bargain. It was them kissing with their tongues intertwining, it was Tony craving for _more_ , craving for Steve inside of him.

It was love and lust united in a blaze Tony should only give to his future wife, feelings he should only ever give to a woman… Never a man.

And Steve was a man.

Tony felt like he was going to faint.

“Tony? Are you alright?” was saying Steve, looking at him with worry in his eyes.

Tony let go of Steve’s neck, abruptly, and hid his face in his hands, a sob ripping through his chest. The euphoria had crashed down, and he was now being swept by horror and fear.

“Tony? Tony, what’s wrong? Please, love, talk to me,” pleaded Steve, standing up and reaching for him, hands holding on his shoulders.

Tony swatted his hands away and bolted up.

“I wanna leave,” he said, and his voice sounded strange, raspy and sick.

“No! No way, I’m not letting you leave in this state!” protested Steve, trying to approach him again.

Tony stepped back, putting space between them. His hands shakily tied up his pants and buckled up his belt, and then tried to button up his shirt.

“I need to go,” he said, his voice breaking, and he repeated; “I need to go.”

“Is it me? Did I hurt you?” Steve’s voice was getting higher and higher in his distress. “I thought you wanted it, you were looking at me with those heated eyes and… and… and you were making those sounds, Tony, you even asked me for more, and… and your body was reacting to my every touch… I… I really thought you wanted me!”

Tony refused to face him and strode to the window, picking up his boots on the way.

“Tony! Please!” cried out Steve, running after him. “Did you not want it? Did I force myself on you?”

“Let me get the Hell out of here, Steve!” screamed Tony, turning over and grabbing Steve by the shoulders, shaking him like a rag doll.

Steve clutched him back, steadying them both, and asked, firmly;

“Will you be fine if I let you go?”

“Please!” cried Tony, and he hid his face in his hands again, trying to hold back the sobs.

His usually piercing and azure eyes glazed over with unshed tears, Steve anchored his braid to the hook by the window, and didn’t try holding him back anymore.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tony heard him whisper as he slid down the golden braid.

Tony crossed the glade in a stupor, zigzagging like a drunk man, until he reached Dummy. His mule, sensing his turmoil, muzzled his face. Tony hugged his big plushy neck and wept, burying his face in the fluffy fur. He stood there sobbing for a long time, feeling the delicate lips of Dummy nibbling his clothes and hair in an attempt to cheer up his master.

Eventually Tony wiped his tears and calmed down enough to be able to hop on his mule. Jan came by, looking sad and worried, but he ignored her. Looking even sadder, the little fairy accepted his silence and simply guided him out of the woods.

When he was finally back to his room at the inn, he closed the shutters, undressed, and wrapped himself in the blankets,  curling into a ball, hiding his face in his pillow. There, ignoring the animated chatter of the village people outside, he cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I didn't plan it to turn out like this, but Tony freaked out so I had to let him do some introspection.  
> Also, about Toro, if you don't know him, he's the partner of the original Human Torch, and both of them were part of the Invaders (Cap's team during WWII). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos & comments are very appreciated <3


	3. Since from my dear's sight I was so rudely torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos! I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter.

He was drifting in and out of sleep when Mrs Arbogast came to check on him a few hours later. It was time for supper, and Tony had never skipped it before. Her soft knocking on the door stirred Tony out of his dark reverie, and, his voice rough, he told her to enter. 

“Dear God, son, you look awful,” said Mrs Arbogast as she peeked inside.

“Sorry, Bambi, I think I caught a cold,” lied Tony, rubbing his red eyes (it was a good thing the room was dark, so at least Mrs Arbogast wouldn’t see he had cried). 

“Are you not coming for supper, then?” she inquired, gently.

He shook his head, and apologized, saying he wasn’t hungry and simply needed to rest. Mrs Arbogast gave him a long look, and then wished him good night, softly closing the door and letting him in peace. She had not renounced to feed him though, for half an hour later Tony heard another knock on his door, and Arnie’s muffled voice came through;

“Tony, you awake? I’ve got stew for you.”

Sighing, Tony called him in. He sat up in bed as Arnie entered, carrying a tray on one arm. About to close the door behind him with his free hand, Arnie frowned at the closed shutters. The only light in the room came from the hallway, so he left the door ajar and came to put the tray on Tony’s lap, sitting on the bed next to him.

“You’ feeling better?”

Tony nodded (lied), avoiding his eyes and focusing on the tray. Mrs Arbogast was spoiling him: there wasn’t only a bowl of stew there, but also bread, cheese, a small cup of warm honeyed wine, and a blueberry tartlet. His stomach decided then that Tony had wallowed in starvation and despair enough, and it loudly clamored its hunger. Arnie laughed. Shrugging, Tony dug in. Eating a warm meal did make him feel a little better.

“Are you still leaving the day after tomorrow?” asked Arnie.

“Yes,” said Tony, his mouth full with bread and cheese.

“Maybe you should rest a little, if you caught a cold.”

“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” grunted Tony.

“You know, you could stay a few more days. We’ve got word from the cowherds, they’re getting down from the mountain pastures and will be there by tomorrow evening. It would be more work for you.”

Tony knew he should consider it, since he really did need the money, but at this time his heart and mind were hurting and all he wanted to do was heading home and have his friends pamper him. So he kept silent, focusing on his food, not gracing Arnie with an answer. Thankfully, Arnie didn’t push. 

However, the relative peace shattered when Tony lifted his eyes, only to catch Arnie looking appreciatively at his bare chest. He couldn’t help it; he tensed, his shoulders hunching defensively, and if he could have backed away he would’ve, only that he was already leaning against the wall. Arnie blinked, startled by his reaction and snapping out of his reverie.

“Oh,” he said, looking both disappointed and ashamed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Hey, I’m not going to try anything, relax.”

Tony avoided his eyes and focused on his food, but found himself unable to swallow.

“Tony,” said Arnie after a moment, his voice softer all of a sudden. “Forgive me for asking, but you don’t look okay. Has something happened?”

“No,” snapped Tony. Why was Arnie being so meddlesome? Tony just wanted to be left alone! “No, nothing happened,” he denied through gritted teeth.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Something had happened and he had _wanted_ it.

“Okay, okay,” soothed Arnie. “I’m just saying, if something happened, we’re here for you. You’ve totally got Bambi wrapped around your finger anyway, so she’d do anything for you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I’m not a danger for you. For one I have a partner, and second I don’t touch people against their will.”

“A partner,” sneered Tony. He still couldn’t look up.

“He’s one of the cowherds,” said Arnie, and his voice wavered. “Is this… is this going to be a problem? I thought you were more open-minded than this.”

Tony swallowed down his food and stared at his half-eaten stew. How many of these sodomites were there in this god-forsaken village? Was perversion considered _normal_ around here? Was he being contaminated by these people’s illnesses?

He closed his eyes and sighed. He’d been dreaming, while sleeping this disaster off. Memories, mostly. This, whatever this _thing_ he was feeling was… _wasn’t new_. Now, it finally made sense to him why, among his friends, Tony had always been the most sought-out for sexual favors. He’d never been one to say no to a pretty face or a nice character, nor had he bothered to over-think the situation, so he had been easy to be with. There were only two times Tony could remember feeling unease, and it were occurrences he had deliberately tried to forget about; Tony had never much liked Tiberius Stone, though they were supposed to be childhood friends. Their fathers had been competitors, each of them running a forge, and so their competitive streak had been passed over to their sons. Tiberius and Tony hadn’t hated each other though, and they had ‘helped each other out’ a few times. It hadn’t been a big deal. Tony had done it all the time with his friends.

But… once, Tiberius had pushed Tony’s hand away and asked him if he could ‘use his thighs’ instead. Tony had seen no reason not to, so he’d let him. Tiberius had pushed him against the mattress, his grip firmly maintaining Tony’s thighs closed, and he’d rutted into him, his erection sliding in the tight crease between Tony’s thighs. Tony could still remember how hot his own body felt, Tiberius’ puffs of warm breath on his nape, his groans, the strength of his masculine body pinning him down, the hardness of his sex sliding between Tony’s thighs, while at the same time teasing the crease of his arse on each slide, and then hitting dead on his scrotum. Tony had been aroused as Hell, painfully hard, and hadn’t been able to get himself off since he was being pinned on the mattress, and he had muffled his moans in his pillow. Eventually Tiberius had come all over him which had made Tony very angry, but not angry enough that he wouldn’t push Tiberius off so as to roll on his back and furiously get himself off. He had come hard, harder than ever maybe. He hadn’t questioned it. Any man with his balls being teased like that would get aroused, he had thought. It had been a perfectly normal physical reaction. He hadn’t been attracted to Tiberius, nor had he felt hot because of the situation rather than the stimuli -no.

Then on the next happening Tiberius had demanded to fuck his mouth, Tony had called him a disgusting fag, and they had never talked again apart from their usual competitive interactions. Tony hadn’t regretted it; Tiberius had always been a douche anyway, always trying to prove himself to be better than Tony (which he hadn’t been, and would never be). Tony and his friends had become grown-ups, Tony got popular with the women, and grown men did not seek each other for ‘services’ anymore.

So it wasn’t that Tony had been ‘contaminated’ or something. He hadn’t been warped into something else by the black magic of the dark woods. He had _always_ been like that. Only Tony hadn’t wanted to care, and it was easy to not pay attention to men when he was young, easier even now that he loved women and was loved by them. The mind is something powerful, but also easy to mould. Where did Tony get those thoughts, about wanting men being an abnormality? An illness? A perversion?

Religion would say it was a perversion, but Tony had never been very religious himself, so that wasn’t it. He couldn’t remember anyone talking to him about men who liked men, and yet, he immediately thought of those men as _fags, sodomites, fairies_. Something he _shouldn’t_ be, _couldn’t_ be. Even his father, who’d been very harsh on him (‘ _Starks are made of iron, Tony_ ’), had never said anything about it to him. Certainly Tony had heard it as slurs around him? 

Who had told him it was wrong? Nobody, exactly. Everyone, unknowingly.

“Is it normal?” Tony asked, his voice quiet. “Here, is that considered normal? For a man to have another man as his partner?”

Arnie didn’t answer immediately, and Tony finally looked up, afraid he had made obvious the sin he had committed and that had him bed-ridden. However Arnie’s eyes were soft and understanding, and he simply reached out, tapping two fingers on Tony’s left hand.

“I think you know better than most,” he said, gently, “that those who are different and in smaller numbers, are considered as abnormal. But it doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with them.”

Tony let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He knew that. He knew it, since he’d had to fight and repeat it so many times in his mind before. As a child, he’d had to resist his father trying to force him to stop using his left hand as his dominant hand, and all his life, he’d had to lash back to the people who called him a spawn of the devil. Being left-handed was considered abnormal. Tony knew there was no logic behind it, that there was nothing wrong with using one hand rather than the other, and yet people still insulted him, looked at him funny, and even once tried to burn him. 

And it was because Tony knew that ‘better than most’, that his most loyal friends were now Rhodey, a man with the darkest skin, and Pepper, a woman with fiery red hair. Rhodey who, while born in the city, was considered a stranger, a heretic, a barbarian. Pepper who was considered a child of the devil because of the color of her hair, a witch because as a woman she dared compete with men.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes lowered. “I know, it’s just…”  
  
It was just that he had been fooling himself in being someone he was not, that his mind had been deeply convinced something his heart genuinely wanted had been wrong, that he had been killing off a part of himself, and now everything had been wasted. Tony had spoiled the beautiful thing that had been blooming between Steve and him.      
  
God, _Steve_. Steve who had already so much on his plate, who had a life so pitiful… Steve who didn’t deserve to have Tony throw his insecurities and emotional turmoils at him, Steve who had been so gentle and loving to him only to have Tony push him away and treat him like his tormentor.   
  
Arnie patted his arm, jolting him out of his somber pit of guilt.  
  
“Rest some more, Tony. You look exhausted. If you need anything, you can wake me up. My room’s downstairs by the stairs. Okay?”  
  
Tony nodded, and Arnie took the emptied tray from him, bidding him good night before leaving the room, and Tony was left again by himself in the dark. He curled on himself, snug in his blankets, and tried to calm down the whirlwind raging in his mind. Eventually, he found himself drifting into daydreaming.  
  
He’s heading back to the city, chatting happily, his body swaying in time with Dummy’s lazy gait. Steve’s laugh comes from behind him, and when Tony turns, grinning, Steve is there, riding Butterhooves. He’s all smirking lips and fond azure eyes, his face flushed from the fresh air and the sun, his strong bony hands shaking delicately Butterhooves’ bridle. There she goes, starting a cheerful trot, and she passes by Tony who splutters indignantly and spurs on Dummy with his heels. Dummy snorts, and ignores him, and Steve is laughing, Butterhooves huffing with mischief.  
  
And Tony could actually imagine it, having Steve there at the city with him. He could see them living together at the house he shared with Rhodey, Pepper, and her husband-to-be Happy. He could hear Steve’s kind and caring voice and his superb singing - he would sing in the house, in the church, in the nearby theater, and be admired and loved by everyone-, he could feel Steve’s affectionate hands on him, his lips pressing a gentle kiss on his mouth, his lithe body curl around Tony’s, he could see Steve’s pouting smile and tender cerulean eyes.   
  
Each day, they would wake up snuggled together in their bed, then have breakfast with Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy (and wasn’t that something, that Tony was actually considering having breakfast at all). They’d part for the day, Tony and Rhodey working at the Stark Forge, Pepper and Happy at their glassmaker shop, and Steve rehearsing at the church or the theater. In the evening, after Rhodey left, Steve would come by the forge and try to lure Tony out for supper. They would embrace and feel the weariness from their working day melting away. Steve would lay his head on Tony’s shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist, Tony would hug him back, and they would stay there, sharing warmth, comfort, and stories about their day, until Pepper would call them for supper.   
  
Tony blinked, the dream peeling away. In truth, their shared house was crumbling, Pepper and Happy were having trouble with the glassmakers’ guild because their guildmates couldn’t bear the idea of a woman in the profession, and Tony and Rhodey did not own the Stark Forge. Tony didn’t have enough money to buy it back from Obadiah Stane’s dirty hands -that was the reason why he spent his summers wandering from village to village as a tinkerer, while Rhodey accompanied caravans-. And as for Steve…   
  
Ah, Tony had always fallen hard and fast, hadn’t he? And it had always hurt in the end. His first love, Meredith, had been the daughter of one of his father’s competitors, and Howard had forbidden him to see her, leaving the two young lovers heart-broken. Cassandra had also been the daughter of a competitor, and while she had swore to Tony her feelings were true, she had been sent by her mother to gather information about the Starks. Feeling betrayed, Tony had dumped her, uncaring of her tears. Later, he had been dumped himself by his fiancée Joanna when his parents had passed away and Stane bought over the Stark Forge. Then he had dated Pepper for a while until she had gotten fed up with his antics and chosen Happy instead. Rhodey was in an on-and-off relationship with Carol, one of the mercenaries from the caravanserai. Wait, what? _Rhodey_?  
  
Tony carefully went over his memories and feelings again, only to confirm that yes, he had been in love with Rhodey at the beginning of their friendship, and had pined after him for a long time until the unrequited love had eventually died down. He groaned, pressing his face into his pillow. He really had the worst luck in love. And now here he was, head over hills in love with a man he barely knew, a man who was being held prisoner by some dark evil sorcerer in a tower with no freakin’ stairs, and Tony had no idea what to make of the situation. He wanted to confess his feelings to Steve, and to apologize for his unfair rejection, but then heavy doubts started plaguing his mind.  
  
Why had Steve acted as his lover? It couldn’t be that Steve had fallen for Tony, that would be ridiculous. Even as narcissistic as Tony was, he wasn’t conceited enough to dare think that someone as great as Steve would fall for one’s looks alone -and that was all Tony had going for himself, his looks, and also, well, his wits, but his wits were usually considered as _too much_ by the others-, so what was the deal with Steve? Were his feelings caused by his loneliness? Or maybe Tony was misinterpreting the adoring look in Steve’s eyes, and it wasn’t adoration at all, but simply lust, and Steve was in only for the sex… sex that he didn’t get in the end, since Tony left before he could reciprocate. But if it _was_ adoration, then, apart from the loneliness, there would be no reason for Steve to… Wait.   
  
“Oh God, no! _Jan_!” gasped Tony, suddenly sitting up, his heart beating faster with panic.  
  
At once, in the darkness of his room, a light popped up, right before his nose, and Tony yelped with surprise.   
  
“Hey, it’s just me!” said Jan, as she flew before his face. Her whole body was emitting a warm golden light, and as always, she was smiling.  
  
“What are you doing here?” whispered Tony, pressing a hand on his chest to calm down his heart.  
  
“Well, you were thinking of me, weren’t you?” she said, and then her smile wavered. “Are you feeling better? You were so pale, before.”  
  
“I’m alright,” said Tony, gently, and he opened his hand to let her sit on his palm. “I just… I was just wondering something, about… about Steve.”  
  
She nodded, her feet dangling other the edge of his palm, one hand wrapped around his pinky and the other waving at him as if enjoining him to go on. So he did.  
  
“Back then, when you said you could grant me a wish, you told me you could lead me to the mystery singer. And I took that literally. But that’s not what my wish was about, wasn’t it? If so, you would’ve disappeared as soon as I would’ve met Steve. But you’re still here. My wish… my wish is to be with Steve, isn’t it?”  
  
She nodded again, so he got on;  
  
“And Steve… Steve seems to like me, but… I can’t help but wonder why? Did you do something? Is it because of my wish? Did you _make_ him _like_ me?”  
  
Jan jumped on her feet, her serious face morphing into an affronted one, and she waved her tiny fists at him;  
  
“What the…!? How _dare_ you! I’m not a bad fairy! I would _never_ use my magic to force feelings or thoughts on someone! All I did was to give you an opportunity, Tony! I am helping you out so you can meet up with him. The rest is up to you!”  
  
“Sorry, Jan, please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean it like that,” amended Tony. “You’re right, it would be a horrible thing to do and you’re not like that. I should’ve known better than to accuse you.”  
  
“I can’t believe you would have so low of a self-esteem that you would jump to any other explanation than the simplest one! Did it not occur to you that Steve may simply like you?”  
  
“But what happens if he doesn’t? Then my wish isn’t granted. What would you do, then?” asked Tony, deliberately avoiding to address her remark. His friends were always talking about his low self-esteem as if Tony really deserved to be loved and admired, and that was just absurd. Tony loved them, but they sure could be blind as to his true, disgusting, repulsive, and selfish nature.  
  
“Then I will have to wait for your wish to change, and see if it is a wish I can grant,” replied Jan, with a ‘I know you’re diverting but I’ll let it slide’ look he was used to see in Pepper and Rhodey’s eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time, you know. People’s desires do not last forever, and they change over time.”  
  
Tony heard the pigs squealing outside as Bucky herded them into the pig pen, and the church bell slowly striking ten o’clock.   
  
“Well, will you lead me to the tower, tomorrow morning?” asked Tony with a contrite smile.  
  
“Of course I will! Poor Steve has been moping all afternoon. You two need to seriously talk things out and make sure you’re on the same page,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her brow creased in a frown and her lips curled into a pout.  
  
Tony smiled to her, and promised he would fix this mess.  
  
And thus, by midday on the next day, Tony saddled Dummy and left the village. Jan was sitting between Dummy’s long ears, joyfully whistling, and it was amusing to note that no one, except Tony and his mule, could hear her nor see her. Once more, Jan guided them through the dark woods to the sorcerer’s glade, and as they reached the bottom of the tower, sad singing could be heard.

_[Since from my dear Astraea's sight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-vIaq7ogiY) _   
_I was so rudely torn,_   
_My soul has never known delight,_   
_Unless it were to mourn._   
  
_But oh! alas, with weeping eyes_   
_And bleeding heart I lie;_   
_Thinking on her, whose absence 'tis,_   
_That makes me wish to die._

Hearing this sorrowful lament, Tony remained frozen on the spot, feeling Steve’s sadness pierce through his heart. Jan kicked his nose to get him moving.

“Go on! The sorcerer has left a while ago, you’re safe. You can call Steve!”

And so Tony gathered his courage.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me!”

The shutters, which were ajar, suddenly burst open, revealing Steve.

“Tony!” he cried, and he fumbled with his braid to hang it on the hook, and then hastily threw it out of the window. 

Tony tried to not climb too fast -it wouldn’t do to faint last the first time-, but he couldn’t wait to be rejoined with his love, and soon he was reaching the windowsill, panting, and Steve was helping him up, catching him by his wrists with his thin and strong hands, and as Tony set foot in the tower they started talking simultaneously;

“I’m sorry Steve I-”

“Tony I’m sorry, so sorry-”

They stopped, looked at each other, and Tony tried again, less hurriedly;

“I’m sorry I freaked out last time. That’s not on you.”

“But it _is_ on me,” retorted Steve, shaking his head. “I should’ve asked you clearly, not let you get swept in the mood. I should’ve noticed your mind hadn’t caught up with your heart yet. I’m sorry. I was careless and it hurt you.”

Steve took a hesitant step toward him, and then reached up, cupping Tony’s face with his warm hands.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he got on. “Thank you, Tony, for giving me another chance, despite what I’ve done.”

Tony couldn’t tear his eyes off Steve’s azure ones.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want, Steve,” he said, his voice rough. “I wanted it. I wanted you. I still do. I want you. I don’t feel half as alive as I do when I’m by your side, and that’s the truth.”

And then Steve’s arms were around his neck, and Steve’s mouth was pressing against his, and Tony was embracing back, hands splaying over his back, soaking in his heat and the sturdiness of his body. They kissed for a long time, and at first Tony had to guide Steve through it, because while Steve was eager, it was obvious he didn’t have much experience in kissing. It didn’t matter, though; Steve kissed with passion, and he was catching up quickly, so unfairly quickly, that a couple of kisses later, the tables had completely turned, leaving Tony weak in the knees and following his lead. 

Eventually they separated, their lips feeling raw and wet, the taste of the other lingering on their tongue, the both of them panting and their eyes glazed with want. Steve’s arms slowly unwind from around Tony’s shoulders, and he took hold of Tony’s wrists, pulling him towards him while he backtracked. He lead Tony to the bathtub, opened the tap to fill the tub with warm water, and then directed his whole focus on Tony, nimble fingers disrobing him quickly. Tony didn’t help him, content in laying his hands on Steve’s shoulders, arms resting against his chest, and leaning in so as to mouth at Steve’s throat, feeling, under his lips and tongue, Steve’s pulse quickening.

“You smell like pig,” snorted Steve, as he pushed down Tony’s shirt. Tony moved his arms obligingly, letting Steve strip him of it.

“Are you going to join me in the bath?” purred Tony, nipping at Steve’s jaw, and felt him shiver.

“Ah, the tub isn’t… the tub isn’t big enough for two,” groaned Steve, hands moving to his belt. He paused, freed his face from Tony’s ministrations so as to look at him in the eyes. “You okay with this, right?”

Tony moved right back in, kissing him fully on the mouth, hands playing with Steve’s collar, and he answered against his lips;

“Yes, yes, please Steve, I want you, everything you want, I’ll give you.”

Steve kissed him back, one hand taking hold of Tony’s wrists and pulling them off his shirt, and the other skillfully unbuckling his belt and untying his underclothes, and then a warm palm pressed against his half-hard sex, fingers teasingly threading through his pelvic hair. Tony buckled against him, and Steve pushed back, until Tony could feel the edge of the bathtub digging against his back. He moaned in Steve’s mouth, tongue curling around his, as Steve lowered his captured hands down to his own crotch. 

Tony freed his wrists, and slipped his hands under Steve’s clothes, feeling with delight the bare skin of Steve’s jutting hips, then the small of his back, the firmness of his ass cheeks. He couldn’t help groping him, and Steve gasped, the sound going straight to Tony’s rapidly growing erection. Steve snaked his hands around his waist, and pressed himself against him, his own hardness fitting perfectly against Tony’s, his hands exploring Tony’s back and digging into his shoulder blades. He sucked on Tony’s tongue, swallowing his moans, and started a slow, sensuous swing, rocking against Tony in a way that made their erections press and slide together.

Tony thought he could come like this, with the velvet feel of Steve’s tongue against his, his mouthwatering taste, the duet of them moaning their pleasure, the sparks of lust and rapture lighting up a raging fire in their core. However Steve finally broke the kiss and stepped back, ignoring Tony’s fingers buried in the flesh of his rear, and said, breathlessly;

“Everything you’re willing to give, I want. Will you join me in bed?”

And Tony could only nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm exausted, and it weigths on my mental health, making me even more exhausted, so I'm not sure I'm going to be able to finish this. I am also kinda discouraged by the lack of response. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong with this fic, but since apart from one lovely person, no one commented, I cannot improve.  
> I want to thank everyone who kudoed and bookmarked. I love you guys and I will try my best to not let you down. <3


End file.
